


Right in front of you.

by Bluebuell33



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst, Drug Use, Drug induced dreams, Eventual Happy Ending, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, John Watson in Afghanistan, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Past Abuse, Protective John Watson, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 11:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15266919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebuell33/pseuds/Bluebuell33
Summary: Sherlock could feel someone shaking him, but he didn’t want to wake up and leave the peaceful park. He wanted the drugs to take him away from this world where he felt so alone, where his mind just raced all day with nowhere to go. He just wanted some peace.





	Right in front of you.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy this short story. I have had bad writers block the last few weeks, this story was me just trying to work through that. It started as something else, but then took on life of its own. Enjoy.

_Sherlock sat on a bench in the middle of a park, he was surrounded with flowers and trees. Directly in front of him there was a small pond with a few ducks swimming around. It was so peaceful here, he could hear the buzz of bees gathering nectar from the flowers and the flapping of bird wings as they soared_ _above_ _landing in the trees behind him. He notices standing to his left is a boy a few years older than him. He is not tall like Sherlock_ _, but_ _stock_ _y_ _with sandy blond hair. The boy stands with his back towards Sherlock and seems to be looking out across the pond. Sherlock wonders who this boy is and if he is as lost as Sherlock feels, with his backpack sitting at his feet. Sherlock can feel the sun warm on his face, maybe he could just stay here, lost in this peaceful dream with the sandy haired boy, it would be easier..._

"Sherlock! Sherlock don't do this!" 

Sherlock could feel someone shaking him, but he didn’t want to wake up and leave the peaceful park. He wanted the drugs to take him away from this world where he felt so alone, where his mind just raced all day with nowhere to go. He just wanted some peace. 

"I need an ambulance now at the Holmes Manor. White male, 16, suspected drug overdose." 

Why couldn't they just leave him alone and let him go. He could tell it was Mycroft who was on the phone, calling for help. Always so calm and collected the opposite of Sherlock, whose mind was always racing only the experiments and the drugs seemed to calm it for a short time. Why couldn't Mycroft just give up on Sherlock, everyone else had, including Sherlock. He could feel his mind drifting farther away from his body, maybe this time, he wouldn't wake up. 

Several hundred miles away, a battered and bruised, 18-year-old, John Watson hugged his sister goodbye and boarded a train headed for London. He was done taking beatings for being a disappointment in his father's eyes. John wasn’t going to change who he was or who he loved for that man. He had joined the army to pay for medical school and then he would head overseas to serve his country for 8 years. 

Things were final starting to look up, he hated leaving his sister behind, but she had moved in with her girlfriend 6 months ago, so John no longer had to stand between her and his father. Now he could finally get himself free of the mess and start living his life without looking over his shoulder to see where the next punch was coming from. 

He found an empty seat next to the window and settled in to watch the little town he hated fade away. Soon, he would be in the city, he had always dreamed of running away too. John leaned back and let his eyes drift close as the train rolled towards his future. 

Sherlock stood smoking outside the campus building, he was waiting on Victor to bring him more bliss filled drugs. He was in uni now, it had been 3 years since the overdose that he thought would finally kill him happened. Mycroft had put him in rehab and watched him like a hawk ever since that day. He had thought that being in uni would help, but he felt more alone and more like a freak here. Victor was the only person he talked to and Sherlock was just using him to get the drugs, just as Victor was using him to pass grades. Sherlock had no time or use for sentiment, he preferred not to feel anything. 

He flicks the last of his cigarette and looks up across the campus yard watching for Victor. He noticed a single boy walking towards the lab building, it’s not just the sandy hair or the stocky build that catches his eye, but it’s the backpack the boy is carrying. Sherlock quickly searches his mind palace for why this is so familiar to him and comes up with the boy from his overdose dream standing by the pond. 

He tried to deduces everything he could before the boy entered the building across the way. ( _abusive parent, joined army to pay for medical school, has sibling that he is worried about, was dating a boy who has just left for active duty, broke it off instead of doing long distance.)_ Sherlock feels a pull towards this boy from his dream, like there was a string that is connecting them. A connection Sherlock isn’t sure that he wants, sentiment is a defect found on the losing side and caring is not an advantage. 

Sherlock hears Victor call his name and decides to forget about the dream boy, giving in to the call of drugs instead. 

John is in his final year at St. Barts, soon he would be shipping off to war. It doesn’t seem that long ago, that he was standing on the train platform still bruised from the fight with his father two days before, ready for his new life to start. It wasn’t all John thought it would be, some days it was better, some were not so good. Like tonight, tonight he is working the night shift in the emergency room, when they had a possible drug overdose come in. Someone had found the boy in his dorm barely breathing and called it in before leaving the room is what John heard as they rushed the boy in.  

The boy was barely hanging on when John and the other staff went to work trying to save his life. There was tracks all up the boy’s arm, so... not his first time. John’s heart hurt for this boy that couldn’t be, but a few years younger than him. The boy was dressed in expensive black trousers and a white shirt that hugged every part of his torso, he looked very posh, topped off with a headful of unruly dark curls. It took hours before he was stable enough to be transferred to a room, during that time, they had a visitor show up for the boy. He tapped his way down the hall with his umbrella at his side. He spoke with the head doctor of the unit before starting to type on his phone at the same time instructing the doctor that this boy was to have the very best treatment with no exceptions. 

When John was done with his shift, he decided to go up and check on the boy. There was a pull towards this particular boy and John wanted to make sure he was still improving. He opened the door quietly and moved to sit in the chair next to the bed. The boy looked so beautiful and peaceful sleeping there, John couldn’t help but reach out and hold the boy’s hand. Maybe he would feel the comfort and come back to the land of the living... 

_Sherlock was once again found himself sitting on the bench in the park, he didn’t have to look around to know the blond boy was there with him. This time he was a few years older and wearing a_ _doctor’s_ _coat as_ _he sat on the bench next to Sherlock. He could feel the boy’s hand holding his as they sat there not speaking or looking at each other. Both just enjoying the sun and peace of the park, with the gentle sounds of nature all around them._

_After a while the boy squeezed Sherlock’s hand and said “You need to come back now, I find I need you.”  Sherlock looked over_ _to find the boy had stood up and was walking down the path away from the bench._

Slowly Sherlock opened his eyes to find the white walls of the hospital staring back at him. Victor must have found him, he hadn’t meant to take so much this time, he just wanted the ache to go away.  Sherlock flexed his right hand as it felt tingly like it was missing contact with something, that’s when he felt the invisible string pulling at him again. He looked towards the door to find the blond-haired boy with his back to Sherlock, speaking in angry quiet tones with Mycroft. Whatever Mycroft was saying was making the boy angry and soon he walked out of room before Sherlock could find his voice.  Mycroft then moved towards the bed, already giving Sherlock a lecture again. It wasn’t like Sherlock was really trying this time, it was more of an accident, but Mycroft wasn’t listening. So, Sherlock tuned him out until he heard Mycroft mention the blond doctor’s name was John. 

John..A ordinary name for a boy that rapidly becoming something more extraordinary to Sherlock even though he had never spoken to him. Soon as he was out of which ever rehab Mycroft sent him to this time, he was going to come back here and take the leap, maybe the blond haired, blue eyed boy would be there to catch him.

John fought to keep the sand out of his eyes as he worked hard to save the soldier, who was bleeding out in front of him. 3 years he has been in the god forsaken desert, watching men die around him every day, trying to save as many as he could. Often, he would think about the posh, curly haired boy back home. He had learned at the hospital, the boy’s name was Sherlock, a unique name for the most singular person. When days got really bad, he would think about Sherlock, pretend he was really waiting back home for him. It was nice to think there was someone out there waiting, someone who cared, even if it was only in John’s mind. Because no one could really fall in love with someone they have never talked too... Could they? 

Suddenly, John felt something hit him in the shoulder, the impacted made him fall backwards, then the pain started screaming through his whole body. As he lay in the sand bleeding, he could help but notice how the color of the sky reminded him of Sherlock.  He wondered if the boy was healthy and happy now. John wished he could have been the one to give him that, he should have stayed to talk to him at the hospital, even after his older brother threatened to have John thrown out. But it was too late for that now, right now all he could do was lay here in the sand, while his blood stained the earth red. 

Sherlock was working on a case with the Met, when he got the news. 3 years he has been sober from the drugs, working with Scotland yard on cases and getting regular updates from Mycroft regarding John the soldier. This was part of the deal between Mycroft and Sherlock, Sherlock would stay sober and Mycroft would keep an eye on John. Sherlock had never got a chance to speak with John before he was shipped out. So, he kept clean and waited for his chance until today when the thing he feared most happened. 

Mycroft texted him that John was missing in action and presumed dead. He felt his heart stop as he read the message.  He quickly wrapped up his deductions, leaving the scene and a bewildered Detective Inspector behind. By the time he reached his flat, he had learned everything Mycroft knew about how John went missing in a hot zone and was presumed dead. 

Sherlock’s heart was broken, he wanted to feel that invisible string between them again, see John again... He made a decision then opened the secret hiding place that held everything he needed to see John one more time. After removing the needle from his vein, Sherlock laid down on the couch and waited for John. 

_Sherlock opened his eyes to see the park bench in front of him, but there was no John anywhere around it. He sat down on the bench and let the tears fall for a man he would never get to talk too, a man that had giving him hope in a dark time, a man who held Sherlock’s heart even though he would never know. Sherlock buried his face in his hands and cried for the soldier, he would never get to know, for the doctor that held his hand in the_ _hospital, for_ _the boy who escaped an abusive parent and made something of himself, if only for a short while._

_Sherlock heard footsteps_ _approaching_ _and stop in front of him. He moved his hands from his face, still looking down at his feet, he could see a pair of black combat boots standing in front of him. He slowly looked up in to a pair of the purest blue eyes, that filled with sadness as they watched him._

_“You’re gone and I didn’t even get to know you yet.” Sherlock whispered._

_“_ _I’m not gone, I am right in front of you.”_

_“Please be ok and come home...” Sherlock_ _pleaded, reaching his hand out from John’s._

_Everything seemed so real, Sherlock wished he could just stay here forever with his John._

One Months later, Sherlock was working on a case using the lab at St. Barts, when Mike came back from his lunch with an old friend. Sherlock looked up in to the blue eyes of one John Watson, recently invalided home from the army. They both just stared at each other as it sunk in who the other was. 

“I play violin when I’m thinking and sometimes don’t talk for days, Would that bother you?” Sherlock asked with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment and let me know if you liked this story. :) You can also come chat with me on twitter @Octoberisblue or tumblr @bluebuell33.


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